Something Left To Give
by twenty3
Summary: After Warrick's death, Nick thinks he's seeing his friend around town, even though he knows that's impossible. But what if it wasn't? Nick's behavior is out of control, but he's about to get help from the only person who can make a difference: Warrick.
1. Force Of Habit

Spoilers: Season 1 to Present

Warnings: Language, adult content, some violence, and a little supernatural stuff I guess.

Disclaimer: Don't anything or anyone.

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Nick Stokes couldn't suppress his laugh any longer. He let it escape from his throat in a short, dry puff, giving off more of a sarcastic expression than humorous despite the fact that he found his current predicament to be quite humorous. He looked around him slowly, carefully taking in all of his surroundings while thinking about how he got to where he was right now in the first place. It all seemed to have been blown out of proportion to him at first, but now, looking back, he was starting to think otherwise.

Nick didn't actually believe that you could literally _force_ someone to do something. You could threaten them and do all sorts of things until they did whatever you wanted them to do, but it was very hard to actually physically force someone to do something. So when Brass and Grissom told him they would force him to go see the grief counselor, Nick ignored it because he didn't think they could actually make him to do it. Grissom could threaten him with a suspension, but he knew he would never do that because they were so shorthanded as it was, and he wouldn't want to risk making Nick act worse.

The problem was, Nick's behavior was "simply unacceptable," as stated by Brass. After chasing down the guy dressed as a police officer that was robbing liquor stores without backup, Grissom gave Nick a brief reprimand, and the whole thing was soon forgotten. But then Nick kept doing stupid things and acting like an idiot, and Grissom and Brass had had enough of it. They were more worried than anything, so they confronted him about it. Nick shrugged it off as no big deal, but the older men didn't agree. They wanted him to go talk to Dr. Alwick, who was more than willing to see Nick. The Texan, on the other hand, wasn't so compliant.

Which is how he ended up handcuffed to the chair in Dr. Alwick's office. Brass and Grissom, with the help of Greg and Archie, had taken hold of Nick, dragged him upstairs to the office, and handcuffed him to the chair. They gave Alwick instructions not to release Nick until he cooperated and to feel free to take any measures she saw fit to help him, ultimately with the loss of his best friend.

Nick laughed again as he lifted his hands up off his lap, pulling slighting at the handcuffs keeping him in his seat. He had been wrong about Brass and Grissom not being able to force him to go see the counselor. They forced him to go, and now they were forcing him to stay.

Dr. Alwick cleared her throat, which got Nick to instinctively look up at her. "If you don't mind, I'd like to begin," she said.

Nick didn't say anything, he just looked right at her with a blank expression. He learned a trick from his older brother Ryan when he was little that when someone is asking you a lot of questions you don't want to answer them, stare right at them with no expression because they won't be able to tell what you're thinking. If you look away, they'll know you're trying too hard to not seem interested, which means you are in fact interested. So Nick just looked back at Alwick, who seemed to know what he was doing.

"Don't you want to talk about why you've been acting to recklessly?" she asked. Nick offered no response. "The sooner you start cooperating, the sooner you get outta here."

Nick just stared back at her, exhibiting no emotion. He shifted in the uncomfortable chair slightly, pulling at the tight restraining handcuffs around his wrists gently. He took a deep breath, but didn't make it known to Alwick. He was glad that she had just met him, because anyone he worked with knew him well enough that he gave everything away in his eyes. That was how Catherine had known he wasn't doing so well, which was added to by his overall idiotic behavior.

"Why don't you want to talk?" Alwick asked.

"Because you can't help me," Nick replied, much to Alwick's surprise.

The psychiatrist frowned slightly. "How can you be so certain?"

"The only person who could help me is dead," Nick said. "And the other people who could help me brought me here and handcuffed me to this chair."

"They're trying to help you," Alwick said. "That's what I do, I help people with their problems."

"I don't have a problem," Nick refuted. "I'm perfectly fine."

"So you've always chased after suspects with guns by yourself and acted out your emotions? Because I've heard the exact opposite about you, and that's why everyone's so concerned."

Nick knew now that he had started talking, he would have to keep talking to make it seem like he really didn't care. He should have just kept his mouth shut, something he should have learned to do a long time ago.

"I messed up a couple times," Nick answered. "I've been a little overtired and stressed since Warrick died."

"Is that your excuse?"

Nick shook his head. "That's my reason."

"There's more to it than that," Alwick said. "How have you been coping with the loss of Warrick?"

"I haven't," Nick said plainly with a small shrug. "I can't cope with something like that."

"Have you turned to alcohol or cigarettes?"

"No," Nick answered, a little too quickly. "I work until I'm exhausted, then I go home and sleep," he said, and he wasn't exactly lying, he was just leaving out a few major details.

Alwick jotted something down on the pad of paper laying flat on her desk before looking back up at Nick. "Do you feel guilty for Warrick's death?" she asked.

Nick was taken aback by this question, so he didn't answer right away. He didn't really have an answer. He wasn't sure whether or not he felt that it was his fault. No one could have seen it coming, but there had been something clawing at Nick, telling him he could have prevented it somehow. The only problem was, Nick didn't know what he was supposed to have done to save Warrick.

"Do you feel guilty for Warrick's death?" Alwick asked again.

"Yes," Nick answered honestly. "I do."

"Why do you think that it?"

Nick sighed. "Because I've been in situations at least five times in my life where I should have died, but didn't. I've been given so many chances, and he only got one. That's not fair. And I should have went with him. I shouldn't have let him leave the diner alone. He's my best friend, and I knew he wasn't okay. I should have went with him."

"He _was_ your best friend," Alwick said, correcting Nick. He frowned in confusion. "You said he _is_ your best friend, not _was._"

"What's your point?" Nick asked.

"My point is, the sooner you start realizing that he's not here anymore, the sooner you can get better," Alwick replied.

Nick shook his head. "I don't need to get better, there's nothing wrong with me."

"Is that why you're handcuffed to a chair in a therapist's office?" Alwick said with a hint of a chuckle.

"Maybe you should be trying to help the people that forced me to come here and handcuffed me, because obviously they have some problems of their own," Nick shot back.

Alwick smiled slightly. "Everyone told me you were very sarcastic," she said. "They said Warrick was the same way. You two were a lot alike."

"We're best friends," Nick said, intentionally using the present tense. "We're like brothers."

"Is that why you shot at McKeen when you found him in the woods?" Alwick asked. Nick rolled his eyes, so she elaborated. "The guys in the helicopter that located you for Captain Brass told Internal Affairs, and thanks to your supervisor's constant nagging, they dismissed it as no big deal. But I think it was. Why did you shoot at him?"

"I wanted him to shut up," Nick answered plainly. "He kept talking, and I wanted him to stop."

"Did you want to kill him?"

Nick nodded. "I wish I had."

"You know, for someone who is so honest, you don't seem like the self-destructive type."

"That's because I'm not," Nick replied. "I did a couple stupid things, and my friends overreacted. They've been waiting for me to have a psychotic breakdown for about seven years now."

Alwick nodded slowly. "I understand that you've been through a lot."

"Yeah, whatever. If I promise to be good and stay out of trouble, will you let me go?"

Alwick considered for a moment then responded. "I will allow you to leave and continue to work under that condition, as well as you coming back to see me at least once a week, whenever you can, and actually talking to me about your problems. You need to talk to someone Nick, before you really do have a psychotic breakdown."

Nick sighed heavily before he nodded his head in agreement. "Fine, I'll do it. Can I go now?"

"Certainly. Let me just go get Captain Brass. He has the keys to the handcuffs."

Dr. Alwick left her office, leaving Nick by himself. He sat there patiently, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice. It seemed to him like he never had much of a choice. Everything that happened just happened, and he never had a say in it. It seemed like there was nothing he could ever do to have changed what goes on around him.

Nick felt a headache coming on, so he closed his eyes and tried to relax. He tried to stop thinking about everything that was bothering him and everything that was going wrong in his life at the time. He didn't want to think about losing Warrick and how it hurt worse every single day. He didn't want to think about how helpless and mad he felt. He didn't want to think about anything, but the harder he tried to not think, the more thoughts plagued his mind and made his headache get worse.

Brass came into the office suddenly, disrupting Nick from his thoughts. The police captain roughly grabbed Nick's left wrist and unlocked the tight handcuffs before doing the same with the right. He then firmly grasped Nick's left forearm and yanked him to his feet before leading him out of the office. Dr. Alwick may have returned, but Nick couldn't be sure. Brass whisked him away quickly, as if there were a fire overtaking the crime lab. But unfortunately for Nick, that wasn't the case.

Soon enough, Nick found himself seated in Grissom's office across from his supervisor. He heard a clinking noise, but before he could turned to look Grissom spoke.

"No handcuffs this time Jim," he said, and Nick could hear Brass sigh in defeat. Grissom turned back to his CSI. "I know you bullshitted Dr. Alwick, but you're not going to with us. We know you better than her. Don't lie, and don't act like this is a joke because it's not."

"I don't see what the bi-" Nick was cut off abruptly by Brass smacking him in the back of the head.

"Shut up," he said. "I'm done with you acting like this."

"Jim," Grissom said calmly. "That's not going to work on him."

"Nothing else is either!" Brass yelled.

Nick shook his head slowly. "What the fuck is your problem?" he asked.

"You," Brass said, standing in front of Nick as to block Grissom from protecting him. "You and the way you've been acting. Do you have any idea how much the people around you care about you? I care about you, and I'm not going to watch you self-destruct. I watched it happen to Warrick, I won't let it happen to Warrick." Before Nick could respond, Brass added, "This is exactly why your best friend isn't here anymore."

With that, Brass wisely left Grissom's office so he wouldn't yell anymore. Nick was left shell-shocked, sitting in front of Grissom.

The older man sighed heavily. "He's right ya know."

"No he's not," the Texan replied. You guys are over-"

Once again, Nick was cut off. "We're not overreacting. We're acting before something bad happens to you. We don't want to see you get yourself hurt, don't you understand that?"

Nick shook his head as he stood. "I don't understand anything anymore."

"Maybe if you'd let the people that love you help you, you'd understand some shit a little better," a deep voice from the doorway said.

Nick didn't have to turn around to know who it was, so he didn't. "Why are you here?"

"Greg asked me to come. He's worried about you too, and so I am, along with everyone else. You don't see it, but you need help Nicky."

Nick turned around to face his older brother, Ryan Stokes. Everyone always said that looking at Nick was like looking at Ryan five years ago. They could pass off as twins, and they had actually done so before when Nick had visited Ryan at college when he was fifteen. Ryan and Nick had the same eyes and smile, but you wouldn't know it right now because Ryan was standing with his arms across his chest and his mouth was in a tight line.

"Why are you acting like a complete and total jackass?" Ryan asked.

Nick sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. "Because I'm related to you."

Ryan shook his head. "Knock it off before I beat the hell out of you. This is serious. I didn't fly all the way out here for you to be a wise guy."

After Ryan had graduated college, he moved out to Washing D.C. to start his law practice. He was a 'street lawyer' that defended the homeless and small business from the multi-million dollar corporations. More often than not, Ryan won his client's case, and usually with ease.

"This isn't serious because this isn't serious. I'm fine," Nick replied.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Did you forget that I've known you for thirty-eight years and I know you better than you do? I know when you're lying, and I know when you're not okay. You're not okay Nick, and you're definitely not fine."

Nick opened his mouth to speak, but Ryan continued. "Shut up. We're going back to your house, ordering a pizza, and talking about this until you admit that you're being a dumbass and let people help you. Let's go."

Nick turned and looked at Grissom for support, but his supervisor was smiling back at him. "I like him," he said, motioning to Ryan with his head.

"That makes one of us," Nick mumbled under his breath.


	2. Bright Lights

Ryan slammed the door behind him, causing Nick to jump from the sudden loud noise. The younger of the Stokes turned around with an angered expression on his face. He fell backwards until he was seated on his couch in the middle of his living room, waiting for Ryan to say something. When all the other man did was stand in front of him, Nick decided to be the first to speak.

"What do you want from me?" he asked as he stood to stand eye to eye with his brother.

"I want my little brother," Ryan responded. "When Greg called me, he was almost in tears. That's how scared he is. Catherine was in tears when I talked to her. They're afraid you're going to die Nick."

"I'm fine!" Nick yelled. "I'm still here and I'm fine. Okay, I chased out my anger and frustration on a couple suspects, and may have acted a little recklessly. But I'm not getting into fights. I'm not about to die Ryan."

Ryan shook his head slowly. "You can't even see it."

"See what?" Nick asked.

"Remember when Warrick wasn't doing so well? And you kept calling me to talk about it because he wouldn't listen to you?"

Nick frowned. "Yeah," he answered quietly.

"You're acting the exact same way he did," Ryan said. "You're saying all the same things he said to you. Now he's gone Nick. You miss him, I get that. Everyone does. It sucks man, but you don't have to let it get the best of you. Don't let it destroy you."

Nick shook his head furiously. "Warrick was murdered. He was killed, shot in the fucking neck. He didn't kill himself. He didn't cause his own death."

"Yes he did," Ryan said softly. "It was his fault, not yours."

"It wasn't his fault," Nick retorted. "McKeen shot him, and I should have been there."

Ryan threw his hands in the air. "Why? So you would have gotten shot too and I wouldn't have a kid brother anymore?"

"No," Nick said, "so that my best friend would still be here."

"Say he was here," Ryan replied. "Say he could see exactly how you've been acting. What would he say to you? The same shit you said to him that finally started to get him back on the right track?" Nick didn't reply because he knew Ryan was right, and so did Ryan. "Warrick's not here anymore Nick, and I'm truly sorry for that. I'll miss him too, but we can't change what happened. I can't bring him back for you, but I can keep it from happening to you. I can keep you here for a lot longer."

Nick dropped his eyes to the floor. "What if I don't want to be here for a lot longer?"

"Shut up Nick."

Nick looked up at his older brother. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to be me?"

Ryan shook his head. "No, I don't. I wish you had an easier life. I wish none of the stuff that has happened to you ever did. But I can't always get my way, and neither can you. You gotta play with the hand that you're dealt, even if it sucks. Don't throw it all away."

Nick sat back down on the couch behind him. "I'm going to be fine Ryan," he said in a defeated tone. "Stop worrying about me."

"It's my job to worry about you," Ryan replied as he knelt in front of Nick. "Listen, I'll leave you alone for a little while, let you calm down and clear your head. But only if you promise me you won't get into any trouble or do anything stupid."

Nick shook his head. "I'm not ten anymore."

"Might as well be," Ryan shot back. "Just promise me man."

"I promise," Nick said. "I'm just going to go take a walk on the strip. You can stay here, do whatever. I'll be back in a few hours. I swear."

Ryan stood, and so did Nick. "Alright. Call me if you need anything, alright?"

Nick nodded slowly. "Yeah. See ya," he said, and with that he left.

It was only about a twenty minute walk from Nick's house to the strip, so he decided to go on foot. He needed the fresh air. It was getting chilly out, so he hid his exposed hands in his jacket pocket as he walked. He kept his head up, looking around him as he walked. The sun was starting to go down behind the clouds, emanating a orange-red glow onto everything around him. It was quiet and peaceful all around him, but inside his head, Nick was going crazy.

He couldn't figure out why he felt so guilty for Warrick's death. He knew that he should have gone with him, but he also knew that McKeen would have just killed him too. He thought it might be because he didn't avenge Warrick by killing McKeen when he had the chance, but he also knew that that would have only landed him in jail. Nick came up with a viable reason for everything that could make him feel guilty, yet he still had it tearing at his heart like he was the one who had killed Warrick. He knew that he had done everything in his power to help his friend.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was because his best effort just wasn't good enough, and his best friend was still dead in spite of it.

Nick shook his head slowly and tried to clear his thoughts. Worrying about this so much would only make him worse. He wouldn't admit it, but he knew he was acting irrationally, and even dangerously. He knew that he was mimicking how Warrick had acted during his breakdown, and that scared him. Warrick had had Nick to yell at him and get him to knock it off. Now Warrick was gone, and Nick thought he was on his own. He knew he still had his team that cared about him, but he foolishly thought that they were looking out for him more for their own sake rather than his.

Before he knew it, Nick was on the strip, weaving in and out of the passing people. The crowd was growing thicker as the night got closer to the hours where everyone would be there, going to shows and dinner and meeting up for drinks before going to another bar for drinks. Nick felt panic rising in his chest as the amount of people around him grew. He had developed claustrophobia from being buried alive, and whenever he felt boxed in he started to freak out a little. But he kept walking, and the more he did the worse he began to feel about being around so many people at once.

As his head started to spin, Nick decided it was a good time to stop for a bit. He leaned up against the wall of a candy shop and rested his head back against the cool marble. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, but it wasn't helping too much. He seriously considered calling Ryan to come get him before he had a panic attack, but when he opened his eyes, all thoughts of that went out of his mind.

Nick opened his eyes for reasons unknown to him. But when he did, they immediately landed on a man standing across the street from him reading a magazine. The man was doing nothing to draw any attention to himself. He was just standing there, in dark jeans and a dark button down shirt, reading casually. He glanced around him every few seconds, but he wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary to be noticed.

Nick probably wouldn't have noticed him at all, except for the fact that he looked exactly like Warrick.

So Nick stood there against his wall, staring at this man across the street from him. Damn it if he didn't, but Nick swore the man even turned, looked at him, and smiled. And that did it. Nick pushed himself off the wall and practically ran across the street, almost getting hit by three taxis and a bike messenger in the process. By the time he got there, the man had put the magazine back and was starting to walk away. So, like a fool, Nick chased after him.

He finally caught up to him and grabbed his arm, causing the other man to turn around in alarm. When he did, Nick realized that it wasn't Warrick. It wasn't even close. This man had brown eyes, not green, and didn't even resemble his friend.

"Oh," Nick said weakly, "I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"Not a problem," the man replied, shrugging it off and continuing on his way.

He didn't even sound like Warrick. Nick stood there, watching him walk away, causing an obstacle in the heavy foot traffic of all the people going about their business around him. So he stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to move, only able to watch who he was sure had been Warrick disappear into the crowded streets.

"Excuse me, I know it's probably none of my business, but are you okay?"

Normally, Nick would have nodded in response and continued on his way. He was not the type of guy to do the things he had been doing lately, but he wasn't exactly thinking clearly, and these were not normal circumstances. He was dealing with the death of his best friend, and in doing so, was trying everything he could think of to make himself feel alive again. This included drinking a little too much, smoking a little more than usual, and sleeping with just about every woman he bumped into.

Nick knew he was being sleazy when he started recognizing woman he had slept with on the street. Of course he had had a random hook-up here and there over the years, but it was never as common as it was now. The girls never remembered him, and he was thankful for that. But he knew it was starting to get out of hand when there were so many of them that he started seeing them places he never ran into anyone he knew. They smiled at him as he passed, but they didn't know who he was. They would never remember him, and he would never forget what he was doing to himself.

It wasn't about the sex. The sex was about feeling alive, feeling like he was still there, that he mattered to someone, even if it was just for a brief, fleeting, drunken hour or so. So that's what he did with woman, even that woman who had asked him if he was okay on the street. He had mumbled something, so she offered to buy him a drink. He said no, but that he would buy her one. One turned into about thirteen, and per usual, he ended up back at her house, waking up in her bedroom next to her, passed out with a satisfied smile on her face.

Nick sighed heavily at the realization that he had done it again. He had gotten drunk and slept with a random woman to try and make himself feel normal again. _At least I've been using condoms,_ he said to himself in an attempt to make it seem better, but it didn't work. He carefully got out of the bed and dressed himself, leaving the house, and the woman who wouldn't remember him, silently. He called a cab and was brought back to his home just as the sun was starting to come back out.

It was his day off, so his current hangover wouldn't affect his job, which was something he never let happen. He never did what he had just done when he had to work, only when he had a day or two off, which was still more often than he knew he should be doing it.

Nick dragged himself up his walkway to his front door, where a note was taped and waiting for him.

_Hey Nick, I had to run out to Reno to meet with a client for work for a colleague of mine who couldn't make it. Sorry I couldn't stick around and wait for you to get back. Call me when you get home, you've been gone for a little while and I wanna know that you're okay._

_Ryan_

Holding the note in his hand, Nick pulled out his cell phone and called his brother. It went straight to voice mail, telling him Ryan was either sleeping or working.

"Hey Ry, just calling to tell you I got your note and I'm fine. See ya when I see ya."

Nick hung up and returned his cell phone to his jeans pocket before letting himself into his dark house. All the black out curtains were still drawn, so it was pitch-black throughout his entire house. He toed off his shoes and dropped his jacket and keys to the floor before heading towards the living room to turn on a light.

"Did you even know that girl's name?"

Nick spun around so fast at the sudden voice, he lost his bearings as to where he was. He couldn't tell where he was facing, so he couldn't move. His heart was beating at an unhealthy rate and he was trying desperately to figure out where he was so that he could locate the nearest light, and also his gun.

"I'll take that as a no."

Nick didn't trust his voice, so he kept his mouth shut and slowly started to move forward. When he bumped into the table near the hallway, he knew he was near a light switch. He ran his shaking hands over the wall frantically until he found the switch and flicked it on, illuminating the room in front of him.

He immediately wished he hadn't.

* * *

Sorry for the cliffhanger, and sorry it took me so long to update. I got caught up with school and basketball and forgot all about it. Next chapter is in the works, hope you're still enjoying this.


	3. Blurry

Warrick Brown was standing in the middle of Nick's living room with an amused smile on his face. Nick's hand fell from the light switch down to his side, shaking gently. His eyes were transfixed on the sight before him, which had to be impossible. It had to be a dream. It couldn't be real.

"Oh, it is," Warrick said, reading Nick's mind. "As real as that girl you just slept with."

Nick shook his head slowly, unable to formulate a sentence. All he could do was stand there, looking like a deer in headlights, staring at his best friend, whose funeral he had attended. Nick had almost killed the man who had killed Warrick, who was somehow now standing in the same room as him.

"I didn't think random hook-ups were your thing man," Warrick said, still talking to Nick.

Nick felt his throat go dry and his eyes stinging, but he couldn't blink. He couldn't do any basic function whatsoever.

Warrick shook his head. "You're such a hypocrite, yelling at me for all my hook-ups."

"That's because your random hook-up turned into a random marriage," Nick shot back, much to his own surprise.

Warrick's smile widened ten-fold. "There we go," he said. "I thought you had lost all your comebacks man. Good to see you're still your same old self. So what about those girls?"

"You're dead," Nick said softly. "You died. You fucking died. I saw you, dead on the ground. You were buried. I've been to your grave like a hundred times."

Warrick just kept smiling. "I never said I wasn't dead. Come on Nick, you always had a wild imagination."

Nick just shook his head very slowly. "I'm going insane," he concluded. "I must be, because I'm standing in my living room talking to my dead best friend. This is what they throw people into straight jackets for. That's where I'm gonna end up real soon if I keep talking to dead people. Or talking to myself, like I am right now."

"You're talking to me," Warrick corrected.

"I can't be, because you're dead. Which means you're not here anymore."

"Then what are you staring at?" Warrick asked.

Nick felt tears of frustration and fear prickling his eyes. "I don't know," he said in a very weak voice. "I have no idea what the fuck is going on anymore."

"Then let me lay it out for ya," Warrick offered, and before Nick could decline or accept, he went on. "You're right, I died. Ryan is right as well. It's nobody's fault but my own. You know that, you just don't want to accept that. You want it to be your fault so you can convince yourself there was something you could have done, because you know that there wasn't."

Nick wished that the tears in his eyes were blurring his vision more than they were because it was getting increasingly harder to look at Warrick.

"So I'm dead, and you're trying to feel alive. So instead of letting the people who love you help you out, you're getting drunk and sleeping with countless, and nameless, women. You were never like that Nick," Warrick said, shaking his head. "You were always the romantic, you never acted like that. Like me."

Nick threw his hands in the air. "What do you want from me? You want me to stop sleeping with everyone I can?"

Warrick nodded. "That would be a good start."

"Fine," Nick said. "I'll stop, I promise. I'll be good, okay?"

"I wish it were that simple Nicky," Warrick said.

Nick tried to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat, but he couldn't. "Why isn't it?"

When Warrick didn't reply, Nick just kept talking to try and ease his nerves. "What, are you here to haunt me because I didn't kill McKeen or something? I get that you're pissed at me, I hate myself too. I hate myself more than anyone else ever could. I drink and smoke too much and sleep with girls so that I'll feel better, but it only makes me feel worse. Everything makes me feel worse. Nothing makes sense anymore. You died, and for some reason, everyone else can move on like it wasn't a big deal. It was a big deal. You were a big deal. You were my best friend, and you're gone."

"That's why I'm here," Warrick responded. "Not to haunt you or hurt you, to help you."

"With what?" Nick asked. "The fact that waking up every day is like waking up after an overdose and finding out you're still alive? It hurts like hell Warrick. Everything hurts like hell, and nothing I do changes that because you're gone, and I'm still here, and everything sucks."

"I'm not here to haunt you," Warrick repeated. "I'm not mad at you for not killing McKeen, I actually couldn't be prouder of you for that. You didn't take the easy way out when you could have. I'm not here for that, I'm here to save you."

Nick was feeling rather dizzy, so he went over and sat down on the couch. He held his head in his hands in a futile attempt to make everything stop spinning. He felt Warrick move from his previous position and felt the rise and fall of the couch as Warrick sat down next to him. Nick thought he was just imagining seeing and talking to him, but could he really imagine_ feeling_ his presence?

"Remember that night, after we got into that fight about Lillie?"

Nick raised his head and looked at Warrick. "The heroin addict?"

Warrick nodded. "Yeah. You knew what she was, and I didn't listen to you at first, even though I knew you were right. Then I listened to you and found out you were right, per usual. Then I went to the tables to try and gamble it all away, but you showed up. We played a few hands, you beat me every time, then we left."

"We went back to your place," Nick said, remembering the night very well.

Warrick nodded in agreement. "I wanted to get drunk, but you wouldn't let me in the kitchen. So we played Madden, which you again beat me at, and we talked. Do you remember what we talked about?"

Nick didn't offer a verbal response, but his eyes told Warrick that he remembered.

"At the tables, you said you were playing cards with your friend, and I asked you why you were friends with me. I've never had a true friend before you, and I told you that. You said you were friends with me because we had a lot in common and bullshit like that. I don't care why we started being friends, but I know we stayed friends because we were willing to do whatever we had to for each other because we cared. We kept talking, and we came to an unanimous agreement that if need be, we would die for one another. Remember that?"

"Yeah," Nick replied softly. "I remember."

"I don't need you to die for me," Warrick continued. "I know that you would if you had to, but you don't. I don't need you to do die for me. I need you to live for me."

"How?" Nick asked. "You want me to marry Catherine or something?"

Warrick laughed as he shook his head. "No, not like that. I don't want you to do my unfinished business. I want you to do yours."

"You make as much sense now as you did when you were alive," Nick said sarcastically.

Warrick rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. "I'm here to save you from yourself. When I was alive, I was never as good of a friend to you as I should have been. I should have done more for you, and I didn't. But I can change that, I can help you now like you helped me. I'm not gonna let you give up on yourself because you never gave up on me, not even when you should have. You always gave me everything you had."

"You're selling yourself short," Nick said, but then Warrick held up his hand to silence him.

"I know you would never admit, or even think, that I wasn't a good friend to you, but I could have done more. That's why I'm here. To help you. To do what I should have done a long time ago. I miss you man, but I don't want to see you anytime soon. I don't want you to end up like me with your life getting cut short, even if that means me getting to see you sooner."

The tears finally fell from Nick's dark eyes. "So what is this? You have to help me come to some revelation so you can pass over or something?"

Warrick smiled and shook his head. "You watch too much TV."

"That's your excuse for everything," Nick said, laughing humorlessly. "I just don't get it. I'm fine. Nothing bad is happening to me."

"That you can see," Warrick said. "If everything was perfectly okay, would Greg have called Ryan because he didn't know what else to do? Would Catherine be losing sleep because she's so worried about you? Would Brass and Grissom keep going out for drinks after every shift with you because it's killing them to see you like this?"

Nick dropped his eyes to the floor. "I didn't know they were doing that."

"That's why they handcuffed you to the chair in Alwick's office," Warrick said. When Nick looked up at him in amazement, he just smiled. "What, you didn't think I'd be watching out for you?"

Nick laughed slightly. "That was brutal."

"Sucks that you have to keep doing it, huh?"

"I thought you were going to be my new therapist?" Nick asked.

Warrick nodded. "I am. But you're still going to see Alwick, and she's going to be amazed when you start to get better and stop acting like a jackass."

"How's that gonna happen?"

"You'll see," Warrick responded. "You know I like to by mysterious and save all my surprises for the right time."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you're so unpredictable," he said sarcastically.

"You're gonna be surprised," Warrick shot back. "I still have something left to give."


	4. Audience Of One

"Can they see you too?" Nick asked as he sat in his Denali in the parking lot at CSI.

Warrick shook his head from where he was sitting in the passenger's seat of the car. "Nope. Only you can. They can't hear me either. So if we get into one of our little fights and start yelling at each other, you're gonna end up with extra Alwick time buddy."

Nick groaned. "I don't need any Alwick time," he complained.

"Yes you do. You need to learn to chill the fuck out man, before you end up getting yourself killed. You can't see it, which is the scariest part. That's why Greg called Ryan and why Catherine can't stop crying. They can see what you can't. They can see what you saw when this was happening to me," Warrick said.

Nick shook his head slowly. "Can I even make it stop?" he asked.

"Of course you can," Warrick replied. "You just have to try and listen and let people help you. Stop acting like me, act like you."

"Tust me, I'm not acting like you on purpose," Nick said as he ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not doing any of this on purpose. If I could, I'd make everything go back to the way it used to be. I should have been able to keep it that way. I should have been able to help you, to fix things. It should have never gotten as far as it did."

Warrick shook his head. "You can't change what happened, so there's no good in thinking about it now. I'm gone Nicky, and I wish I could come back as much as you do. But I can't. Neither one of us can change what happened, but you have the power to change the future. The past is done, what happens in the future is still up for grabs."

"But you're not going to be part of the future," Nick replied. "That's what sucks so much. You're my best friend, and you died."

"Remember when I was beating myself up over what happened to you with Gordon?" Warrick asked, and Nick nodded silently. "You told me there was nothing I could have done. And now I know that you were right. And I'm right about you not being able to do anything to stop what happened to me. It happened, there was nothing anyone could have done. Not for you, and not for me."

"You died," Nick responded. "I didn't. You didn't know I was going to get randomly kidnapped. The writing for what was going to happen to you was all over the walls, and I couldn't see it."

"Fine," Warrick said, throwing his hands in the air. "What do you propose to do about it now?" Nick dropped his eyes from Warrick's. "See? It's not going to do you any good man. Even if there was something you could have done before, there isn't anything now. You can't do anything for me except do something for yourself. I don't blame you for what happened to me, so stop blaming yourself for something no one could control."

Nick nodded weakly. "So what am I supposed to do now?"

"You go to work. Act like you did when I was around, because I'm with you. Even if you're the only one who can see me," Warrick said, "act like I never left. You're gonna learn to move on."

"How can I act like you never left?" Nick asked.

Warrick smirked. "Because I didn't."

* * *

Nick sat in the same chair in Alwick's office that he had before, except this time there were no handcuffs holding him there. He was staying there one his own; well, almost. Warrick was leaning up against the wall behind Alwick, so when Nick was looking at her, he was also looking at him. Alwick was shuffling through a few papers, getting ready to begin the session. Warrick had his arms crossed over his chest and was staring at Nick, who was pretending he didn't notice what the other man was doing.

"Alright Nick," Alwick began. "How have you been since we last spoke?"

Nick shrugged. "Fine I guess," he replied. "Nothing much has really happened."

"So no more chasing down armed suspects without back-up, or acting defensive for no reason?"

"Nope," Nick said, shaking his head. "I haven't had much to lately though."

Warrick chuckled and shook his head at his friend, but Alwick didn't find it funny. "You're not going to make any improvements if you don't take this seriously," Alwick said firmly. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes, I do," Nick responded.

Alwick nodded. "Then you might want to stop lying," she added.

Nick frowned in confusion. "What did I lie about?"

"You told me that you haven't turned to alcohol or cigarettes," Alwick explained, "but your file here says that you have in the past."

"What kind of file is that?" Nick asked, genuinely curious.

Alwick rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter. Stop trying to change the subject. Why did you lie about that?"

Nick sighed heavily. "Because I knew what your response would be. That I'm self-destructing and abusing myself with alcohol and drugs. But I'm not. It's not a problem. I'm not an alcoholic."

"Yet," Alwick said. "How do you know what the future will bring?"

Nick looked at Warrick, who wasn't offering any help. "Because I'm the one that controls what happens to me," Nick replied. "I'm not going to turn into an alcoholic. There's no way my friends or brother would let that happen."

"Your brother's name is Ryan, correct? Alwick asked.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"I'd like to meet him. He's in town, right?" Nick nodded again. "Give him a call, see if he's free. I think he'd be a big help."

* * *

A half hour later, the silence in Dr. Alwick's office was interrupted by the door opening and Ryan Stokes entering. Nick didn't turn around because he knew who it was and was more intrigued with Warrick's reaction. He saw his friend push himself off of the wall before suddenly freezing, realizing that Ryan couldn't see him. Warrick slowly fell back against where he was previously leaning, a saddened look on his face due to the fact that he couldn't acknowledge his best friend's brother, whom he himself had become good friends with over the years.

Ryan shook hands with Alwick and introduced himself before sitting down in the chair next to his younger brother. He glanced at Nick, who was staring straight ahead with a bemused expression on his face. Not surprisingly, Alwick was the one to break the silence.

"I'm glad you could join us Ryan," she said, regaining Nick's attention. "There's a lot about Nick I don't know that I don't feel he'll tell me, so that's where you come in."

Ryan and Nick looked at each other for a split second before Ryan answered. "I'll help however I can," he replied.

"Good to know," Alwick said with a smile. "What was Nick like as a child?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Nick asked.

Alwick scribbled something on the pad of paper in front of her before answering. "I'm looking for a pattern of behavior."

Before Nick could continue to argue, Ryan spoke up. "He was a great kid," he said. "It was hard sometimes for him being the youngest in such a large family because our sisters were so much older than him and our parents always worked a lot. But he had a lot of friends and was always running around with them; normal kid stuff. He helped out our family whenever he could and when he got in trouble, it was for run of the mill stuff."

"Give me an example," Alwick asked.

Ryan thought for a second. "The only time I can remember him getting in trouble in school when he was younger was for playing paper football during class. He was never a bad kid or anything, everyone that knew him loved him. They still do."

Alwick wrote something else down before looking back up. "What was he like as he got older?"

Ryan laughed slightly. "He was always looking out for me. I obviously did the same because I'm his older brother, but whenever I threw a party when my parents were away and passed out before I could clean up, Nick took care of it. If I ever needed a ride or needed to sneak back in after being out too late, he always helped me out. He never ratted me out; he's a really cool little brother."

"You consider being your accomplice a good thing?" Alwick asked.

"Yeah," Ryan answered without hesitation.

"The first rule of every mob movie ever made is never rat on your friends," Nick chimed in.

Alwick nodded slightly. "So you consider yourselves to be friends as well as brothers?" Nick and Ryan nodded in unison. "That's good that you two have had a strong connection. How many years apart are you?"

"Five," Nick replied. "Our sister Katie is in between us, but I never got along with her and neither did Ry, so we were kinda on our own in a way."

Ryan nodded in agreement. "No one else looked out for him, and I had no problem doing it."

"Why did you have to look out for him?" Alwick inquired.

"Because he's my little brother," Ryan answered. "It's my job."

Alwick jotted that down before she continued. "And it's my job to help Nick get over the death of his best friend, Warrick. I think that the first step in doing this is for Nick to realize what actually caused Warrick's death."

Nick locked eyes with Warrick, but it appeared that he was looking at Alwick. Nick didn't move a muscle and held his breath, waiting for someone else to talk because there was no way that he could at the moment.

"Nick, what do you believe caused Warrick's death?" Alwick asked, the tip of her pen resting against her bottom lip.

Nick swallowed hard. "The corruption of the police department," he answered quietly. "He was set up."

"Yes," Alwick agreed, "but who led him down the road to being set up? Who caused him to get to that point?"

Nick knew no one was going to agree with this answer, but he was going to say it anyway. "Me," he replied, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Ryan slowly shaking his head. Warrick just stared at Nick, and Nick stared right back.

"Why do you think it was your fault?" Alwick wanted to know.

But Nick didn't reply directly to her; he was talking to Warrick. "Because he was my best friend and I waited too long to say something to him about the way he was acting. I knew what was going on and didn't do anything about it until it was too late. He didn't have anyone else to go to with his problems. I should have been there."

Alwick wrote down everything Nick said. "Why weren't you there for him?"

"I...I don't know," Nick replied honestly. "I guess I was scared and didn't know what to do, so I ignored it. And now he's dead because of me."

Nick was about to speak, but Warrick cut him off. "You're wrong Nicky. It's my fault. Not yours. You have no idea how hard it is for me to hear you blame yourself like that. You didn't do anything wrong. You tried to save me. Don't blame yourself. You don't have to blame me, just don't blame yourself."

Nick was about to respond when he remembered that no one else could hear Warrick, and if he started talking to his dead best friend he would be immediately brought to the psych ward and put in a straight jacket for a long time. That was the last thing he needed, so he kept his mouth shut for once and dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Ryan," Alwick said, addressing the older Stokes but watching Nick carefully, "what do you think of what your brother just said?"

"He's wrong," Ryan answered plainly. "I loved Warrick, I really did. He was a great guy and I have nothing against him, but what happened to him was his own fault. Nick tried to help him with everything he had. Warrick brought it upon himself. It's his fault for what happened to him, and it's his fault that Nick feels the way he does."

Alwick nodded. "Nick, how do you feel about what Ryan just said?"

Nick sighed heavily. "I know he's right, but it doesn't matter. I can't help it. I'm not gonna sit here and blame my best friend for being dead. That would make it easier, but I never take the easy way. I'm not going to blame Warrick, and I'm not going to accept what happened to him. I'll stop acting like he did, but I'm not going to 'get over' losing my best friend. It can't happen."

Alwick looked at Ryan, who didn't hesitate to speak. "I don't know about anyone else, but I don't want you to get over it. I don't want you to be able to act like losing your best friend is acceptable. But I don't want you to put me through what you're going through right now."

Nick looked up at Ryan and saw, for the first time in a long time, that his older brother had tears in his eyes. "I know he was like a brother to you, but you _are_ my brother, my little brother that's not little anymore. I wouldn't be able to handle it if something happened to you."

Nick was about to speak, but was stopped as Ryan slowly shook his head and added, "If for no other reason, let me help you because I love you Nick."


	5. Ready To Fall

After consulting with both Ryan and Dr. Alwick, Grissom decided to send Nick home early from shift. He hadn't even begun to work before it was decided that he needed to go home and get some rest before he would be ready to work. Knowing well enough that arguing would get him nowhere he wanted to be, Nick silently left the lab and sped home to beat Ryan there, who he knew would be on his way over. Nick was through the door and two steps away from the kitchen before a voice stopped him.

"Let us help you," Warrick said, pleading with his best friend.

Nick stopped, his back to Warrick. "You can't help me because you're dead. You died, that's the reason I'm like this. How can a dead you help me deal with you being dead? That makes no fucking sense Warrick."

"Fine, then let Alwick and Ryan help you," Warrick replied. "If you don't want my help, I'm gone, but-"

"No," Nick said, spinning around. "Don't leave."

Warrick smiled slightly. "I thought I couldn't help you?"

Nick sighed heavily. "Maybe you can't, but it'll make dealing with Ryan and Alwick more bearable if you're in the background. Not to mention Grissom and Brass trying to handcuff me to chairs all day."

"Ket them help you," Warrick said again. "They know what they're talking about."

"Alwick just wants me to get over it so I'm not a company risk anymore. It's a job to her, nothing more," Nick said, shaking her head.

"Her job is to help people deal with what you're dealing with," Warrick retorted.

"She can't help me," Nick said defiantly.

"What about Ryan?" Warrick asked. "He's your brother and he loves you. He's worried sick about you. Do you really want to do to him what I did to you?"

Before Nick could respond, Ryan came in through the door and walked right through where Warrick was standing. The frustrated look on Nick's face made Warrick laugh because he knew how much Nick hated it when he got the last word in an argument.

"Shut up," Nick mumbled to Warrick before he realized what he'd done.

Ryan stopped and threw his hands in the air. "I didn't even get to say anything yet."

Nick tried to ignore the amused look on Warrick's face behind Ryan. "Sorry," he apologized. "But that wasn't easy in Alwick's office, listening to my brother selling me out."

"You don't understand how insane you sound," Ryan said. "I'm helping you. What I told her needed to be said. You need help Nick, but if you wanna chalk it up to me selling you out then fine. I don't care if you end up hating me after all of this, as long as you don't end up dead. I'd rather have a brother that hates me than no brother at all."

Nick sighed. "I don't hate you, I could never hate you. I just feel like everyone's ganging up on me and trying to force me to do shit I don't want to do."

"Of course we're ganging up on you, we have to. Nothing else has worked. You won't voluntarily listen, so we're going to make you. This may be a joke to you, but it isn't to us. You're life isn't a joke to me Nick. You're the only little brother I'll ever have, I'm not gonna give up on you. Even if you give up on yourself."

For the first time, Nick completely forgot about Warrick's presence and focused on his brother. "I'm not giving up."

"It looks like you are," Ryan said. "I've never seen you like this before. I'm terrified that something bad is going to happen to you and there's nothing I can do. So I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help you and keep you safe. Please just humor us and see if we can actually help, okay?"

"I just..." Nick began, then trailed of and paused for a moment. "I don't know what else to do. I don't know how to deal with losing my best friend."

"You can't keep doing what you're doing man," Ryan said. "You drink and smoke way too much. You know it's not good for you and isn't going to help. It's just a matter of time before you go to work drunk or hungover and end up making a mistake that could cost you your job."

"I'd never let that happen," Nick said, shaking his head.

Ryan sighed. "You'd also never sleep with random women, right?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I'm your brother, I know everything," Ryan said. "What difference does it make how I know? I know, and I'm right. You're doing so many things the old you would have never done."

"The old me felt alive," Nick replied. "I don't anymore. I feel dead. I should be dead. I've survived all the times I shouldn't have. I've gotten so many second chances, and Warrick didn't get any. How is that fair?"

"It's not," Ryan answered. "But you can't do anything about it. The only thing you can change is how you're acting and what's going to happen to you down the road. You may not think that it's that bad right now, and maybe it isn't. Maybe it's just a phase and you'll snap out of it. But maybe it's just the beginning of you self-destructing and ending up hurting yourself and the people that you love. Don't do that to yourself."

When Nick fell silent and dropped his eyes to the floor, Ryan knew he had gotten him to think the way he needed to. "Would I have dropped everything back in D.C. to come here if you didn't need me?"

"No, because you love your job more than anything else," Nick said, unable to pass up a chance to shoot a sarcastic remark at Ryan's workaholic personality.

The older Stokes was in no mood for sarcasm. "Obviously I do because I left that to come here, for you. I don't have a wife or kids or even a steady girlfriend back in D.C. because I'm so consumed with my job, you're right about that. But I would never put it before you. I would never put anything before you, and if you doubt that for even a second then that just goes to show how fucked up you are now Nick."

Ryan turned and left before Nick had time to process a response. Ryan didn't want to leave Nick alone for fear that he would do something stupid, but he was so mad at his younger brother that he was afraid that if he stayed any longer he would only make matters worse by continuing to yell at him for his actions. So he left Nick alone to think about everything, but Ryan had no way of knowing Nick wouldn't be alone for quite some time.

"Don't even say it," Nick said before Warrick could make any comment at all.

"Say what?" Warrick asked innocently.

"Whatever the hell you were gonna say," the Texan replied as he went over and sat on the couch. He covered his face with his hands and rested his elbows on his knees.

Warrick stayed where he was standing near the door. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans and the smile on his face had disappeared with Ryan's exit. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that people care about you?"

"Obviously because I'm so fucked up," Nick replied in a mumbled voice.

"Yeah, you are," Warrick agreed. "Because you'd rather fight with your brother and try to make him feel bad instead of letting him help you. You'd rather fight with everyone and act like they're the ones going crazy instead of admitting it's you that's losing your grip on everything."

"I know, I know," Nick said as he looked up at Warrick. "What do I do?"

Warrick smiled at Nick's first attempt to accept help. "If I were you, I'd start with tracking down Ryan and apologizing and telling him you're gonna cut this shit out."

Nick nodded. "Where is he?"

"How the hell should I know? He's your brother."

"Can't you do some supernatural shit and locate him or something?" Nick asked.

Warrick laughed. "Even if I could, this is something you have to do by yourself. Get it started on your own to prove you're serious, then I'm here for anything else you need."

An hour later Nick found Ryan at the first place he should have looked, but didn't think of it at the time. Whenever Nick was stressed at work, he would sneak up to the roof to relax. He had shown Ryan the spot before and should have known right away that it was the only spot in Vegas his brother would know to go to for some sort of an escape.

Nick found Ryan standing dangerously close to the edge, looking out at the bright lights of the strip stretching for as long as they could see. Ryan had propped the door open with the nearby cinder block so Nick thought he had come undetected, but of course Ryan knew he was there.

"Maybe you're right," Ryan said, his back still to Nick.

"About what?" Nick asked as he slowly made his way closer to his brother.

"About me only caring about work."

"Ryan, I-"

"Don't apologize," Ryan said, cutting him off. "You have a point. I don't have a wife or any kids. No family. Nothing but my work. What kind of life is that?"

Nick came to a stop three feet behind his brother. "I don't have a wife or kids either. But that doesn't mean we don't have anything. We have our family, our friends. We have each other."

"Do we?" Ryan asked. "Because I don't feel like I have you anymore. I feel like I don't even know you. You're some strange person now, not my little brother."

Ryan took a step forward so that he was less than an inch away from the edge. Nick's heart jumped to his throat and he reached out to try and pull Ryan back, but was afraid of getting too close and accidentally sending him over the edge.

"I'm still here," Nick said. "I'm gonna let you guys help me. I'm sorry Ryan, I'm sorry. I know I need help, I just don't know what to do. I need you to help me. Please just come back to my house with me and help me. Get away from the ledge."

"Am I scaring you?" Ryan asked, still not facing Nick.

Nick felt the panic rising. "Yes, you are. This isn't funny Ryan come on, come back here. Please."

Ryan shook his head slowly. "It's not fun seeing your brother on the edge, about to fall off, is it? Pretty fucking scary huh?"

"You made your point, alright?" Nick wanted to yell, but he was so scared his voice was just above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I need you man, come on. Please."

Ryan finally turned around so he was facing Nick. "How would you feel if I just jumped off this building? How would you feel if I wasn't here anymore, if I just gave up and jumped?"

"Awful," Nick replied. "I don't know what I'd do without you. But you're not gonna jump, because you have to help me. Because you're my big brother and you love me, even though I'm a selfish jackass that doesn't deserve it."

Ryan stepped forward, and Nick stepped back to give him room. Nick kept walking backwards and Ryan kept going forward until Nick's back was against the wall that housed the staircase that led down to the lab. Nick slowly slid down the warm brick wall until he was sitting with his knees against his chest. His failed attempt to swallow the lump in his throat made him realize how scared he was, but not because he thought Ryan was going to jump anymore. He was scared for himself.

Ryan knelt down so he was eye level with Nick. "You do deserve it Nick, that's why I'm here. To remind you of everything you've forgotten about. You're gonna be okay kid, I promise."

Nick closed his eyes and allowed the tears to fall as they may. Ryan moved and sat next to his younger brother against the wall, not caring how long they sat there, only caring about doing whatever it took to help Nick get back to being Nick again.

* * *

Sorry this story was put on hold for so long, I was debating for a while on whether or not to continue and finally decided to. Obviously a lot has happened on the show since I started this story, but for the sake of the story line I'm going to stick with it being set right after Warrick died (beginning of season 9) and keep Grissom in the story.


	6. Breaking Inside

Nick had wanted to just go home, put a movie in, have a beer and forget everything for the time being. But as soon as him and Ryan had gotten down from the roof and were almost out the door of the crime lab, Nick knew that wasn't going to happen. Jim Brass came through the glass doors at the exact same moment Nick and Ryan turned the corner on their way there. When Nick saw the expression on Brass' face, he stopped dead in his tracks and knew this wasn't going to be good. Ryan stopped as well and looked at his brother, who had a look of total and utter defeat on his face.

"We need to talk," Brass said as he came within range of the CSI.

"About what?" Nick asked.

Brass shrugged. "What difference does it make? We're going to, right now."

Without any more comment, Brass turned and headed for Grissom's office. Nick sighed heavily and followed him with Ryan close behind. Ryan knew that if Brass didn't want him to attend this meeting, he would have said so. Ryan was here to help, and he knew that everyone else who wanted to do the same for Nick wasn't going to exclude him from anything concerning his younger brother. They walked into Grissom's office and could tell by the atmosphere that it wasn't going to be pretty. Nick sat down heavily in the lone chair in front of Grissom's desk while Ryan stood behind him with his arms folded across his chest. Grissom and Brass stood behind the desk, Grissom with his hands in his pocket and Brass' bracing himself as he leaned forward against the top of Grissom's desk.

Nick decided the break the tension. "What's going on?" he asked.

"IA has been investigating what happened to Warrick quite thoroughly," Grissom replied. "And you've become a person of interest in their investigation."

"How?" Nick asked, frowning in confusion.

"Little things are making them curious," Brass said. "Like the fact that you loaned Warrick a good deal of money and you were so defensive about everyone that questioned Warrick even for a second while he was in custody. Not to mention the fact that you shot at McKean when there was no need to."

"He killed my best friend," Nick said calmly, despite the anger that was welling up inside him. "That's a good enough reason itself, aside from him begging me to put him out of his misery after he taunted me with the fact that he had killed Warrick. I was just scaring him to get him to shut up. Believe me, if I had wanted to kill him, I would have."

Brass shook his head. "I think you did want to kill him, but chickened out."

Before Nick could respond to that, Grissom intervened. "We know you had nothing to do with what happened Nick. But IA is curious as to how involved you were. They're suspicious of everyone in the department because of what happened with Pritchard and McKean. They're not taking any chances and want to make sure you had nothing to do with anything. So they're going to talk to you, and when they do, be honest. Stick to the truth because that's what everyone else has already told them."

"Who's everyone else?" Nick wanted to know.

"Hodges is one of them," Brass said. "He clued them in to how you jumped down his throat about how he told IA about Warrick's phone call he got in this office. They take that as you acting suspiciously."

Nick shook his head. "Fucking Hodges," he mumbled. "I didn't do anything wrong. My best friend was being accused of something I knew he didn't do, I-"

"You didn't know he didn't do it," Brass said, cutting him off. "You had no idea what happened, just like the rest of us."

"Unlike you, I always had faith in him. I knew he would never do something like that. I never gave up on him, but you clearly did," Nick shot back.

Brass scoffed. "He got lucky. I didn't want to believe that Warrick could kill anyone, but it was hard to believe anything when I felt like I didn't even know the guy anymore. He was running around on his own trying to take down gangsters. He was hiring private detectives and sleeping with strippers, which is something you're familiar with."

Nick rose from his chair and threw his hands in the air. "Who the fuck do you think you are man? What's gotten into you? You're acting like I'm a criminal instead of someone you've known for years."

"You might as well be a criminal," Brass said. "I don't feel like I know you at all. I feel the same way I do about you as I did when Warrick started on his self-destruction path."

"Guys, calm down," Grissom said. "We all need to be civil if we're going to help anyone with anything."

Nick laughed. "He doesn't want to help me," he said. "Just like he didn't want to help Warrick. He acted like a total jackass, like he is now, and did nothing to prevent anything bad from happening."

"And what did you do Nick? You funded his drug problem and the PI that got killed as a result of all this. You just fueled the fire kid," Brass said, shrugging casually.

"So what's your plan here? To yell at me and make me so mad and frustrated that I just go finally kill myself? Finally get it over with? You pushed Warrick until he was at the edge, and then when he finally took a few steps back you shrugged it off and acted like he was a murderer. You turned your back on someone who needed your help. Have you ever thought that maybe the reason I'm so against you helping me is that I know you're only going to do the same to me?"

Brass moved to go around the desk and towards Nick, but Grissom grabbed him by the arm and held him in place. "The only motive you have for helping me is to try and erase the guilt you feel for not doing more to help Warrick. You don't want it to happen to me because letting it happen two times would be too much for you," Nick continued. "I feel like giving up and letting whatever's going to happen to me happen just to spite your sorry ass."

Nick was done talking, so he turned and left Grissom's office without another word. Ryan followed wordlessly as his brother made his way to the door, but was once again stopped from exiting, but this time from a voice behind them.

"Nicky," Grissom called out. Nick stopped but didn't turn around. "You're gonna need to have a cooler head than that when you talk to IA. I'm not going to be able to save your job if you blow up at them like that."

Nick turned around to face his boss. "If they act like a complete jackass and verbally attack me, then I can't rule anything out."

Grissom sighed. "I can't rule anything out with you anymore," he said sadly. "I never thought I'd have to say this about you, but I wish the old Nick was still around. I wish I didn't have to wish for you to be the person you used to be, but I guess the new you doesn't even care about that anyway."

"Of course I care," Nick said. "I always care, that's my problem. I care too much, especially about what happened to Warrick. That's why I'm like this. But there's no reason for Brass to be acting like-"

"Like what?" Grissom asked. "Like Brass has always acted? He's always used tough love on you guys, that's what helps to make you such good CSIs. When you act like a reckless idiot and he doesn't know what else to do, he's gonna get desperate to try and help. And when you refuse that help and just act worse, what do you expect him to do? He just had to watch this same exact thing happen to Warrick. You're a grown man Nick. He's not gonna hold your hand and tell you it's going to be okay. He's gonna make damn sure you know that you're heading down a dangerous road and that he's not going to sit by and just let it happen. You're not surprised at how he's acting towards you, you're scared because you know by the way he's treating you just how serious this is."

Nick watched in silent defeat as Grissom turned and headed back into his office, closing the door behind him. Nick wanted to go back into his office and apologize to Brass and talk to him so he wouldn't leave things the way he had, but he didn't think he had the energy in him to do that. He needed time to think, and he figured Brass did as well. Nick found it so easy lately to pick fights with people and do everything he could to keep the fight going to make himself believe that his anger was over something other than losing his best friend.

Ryan walked up behind his brother and put his hand on his shoulder. "Come on Nick, let's go home," he said softly.

Nick nodded silently and followed Ryan out to the car. He handed his older brother the keys and got in the passenger seat, in no mood or mental state to be driving. Nick stared out the open window the whole ride home, not saying anything. He saw out of the corner of his eye that Ryan kept looking over at him to see if he was okay, but he clearly wasn't. When they got back to Nick's house, Ryan turned the car off and took and keys out of the ignition, ready to go in the house, but Nick didn't even unbuckle his seat belt.

"I can't do this," he said quietly.

Ryan frowned. "Do what?"

"This," Nick repeated. "Whatever this is. Whatever it is that I have to do to get back to the old me, I can't do it. I can't go through what I just went through with Brass over and over again with everyone that I know and love. I feel like my heart is shattering. I can't take it."

"It doesn't have to be like it just was," Ryan reassured him. "You're both very stubborn people and hardly ever admit when you're wrong, especially to each other. He obviously cares about what's going to happen to you because if he didn't, he wouldn't even talk to you. He'd just ignore you and wait for you to break down completely. But he's willing to yell and fight with you because he cares."

Nick shook his head. "Everyone is going to be willing to fight with me. You are, Brass and Grissom obviously are. Hodges already tattled on me like a fucking little kid, and who knows what Catherine and Greg are gonna have to say to me about all of this. And then there's IA who think I had something to do with what happened to Warrick. This is all so fucked up."

"Because you let it get this way," Ryan said. "I hate seeing you like this. I hate that I can't just snap my fingers and make it all better, but just because it's going to be hard doesn't mean it can't be done. You know that all too well. You can't give up before you even try, because once you try you're not going to want to give up. You wanna make this right, and you know you can. So do it, no matter what it takes. You owe it to your friends, and you owe it to yourself."

Ryan left it at that and left Nick in the car and headed into the house. He knew Nick would follow if and when he was ready. A few minutes later, Nick unbuckled his seat belt, but that was as far as he got to leaving the car before Warrick came up to the open window and propped himself on his elbows against the car.

"Rough night?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Nick sighed. "Yeah, and it's only going to get worse."

Warrick shrugged. "It has to get worse before it gets better. Look at me. I had to completely hit rock bottom and wake up next to a dead guy to get my shit together. But it got through to me."

"And then you died," Nick replied. "So what good did it do you to even get better?"

"I died with peace of mind," Warrick answered. "Believe it or not, I accepted what happened to me because I knew you guys knew I was innocent and would have been okay had I lived. Knowing that I was able to get better and back to being as close to my old self as possible was a great feeling. A feeling you're working towards."

Nick ran his hands through his dark hair as he shook his head slowly. "Right now I feel crazy for even thinking that this is going to work."

Warrick smiled. "You may say I'm a dreamer," he said, beginning one of his favorite lyrics by John Lennon.

Nick couldn't help but smile as well as he finished, "But I'm not the only one."


End file.
